Late Bloomer
by fiveby10eighty3
Summary: Daisy-William-centric story which begins from her arrival at Downton in 1905 as a seven year old girl to the day Ethan Slade offers her a place in Mrs. Levinson's home. Julian Fellowes, and Carnival-with the exception of a few original characters, own Downton Abbey.
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

_May 1926_

Daisy Mason looked at the window of the kitchen at Downton Abbey. It would be her last two months serving the family. She promised as much, in order to help her replacement, Jean-a young Scottish woman who had once been a VAD in the war over ten years ago-to adjust to her new job.

"Daisy?" Mrs. Patmore was the owner of the voice who called out to her. Daisy turned to see her in the doorway of the kitchen.

"I'm here," she said. "Just looking at the flowers outside the window. Springtime's beautiful, isn't it?" In her twenty years at Downton, Daisy knew she couldn't fool her direct superior. She was thinking, as well. Of William, and the new life she would have-and she _should_ have had with him. But of course it didn't happen. _It never would. _She could still remember that evening, when he first came to the kitchen in his uniform. William had been conscripted, and he had finished training.

_William, I don't believe it!_

_ Pinch me, I am your dream come true._

_ You're like a real soldier._

_I am a real soldier, thank you very much. Now come and give me a kiss.*_

That kiss didn't happen, Daisy reflected. In her memory, she only kissed him twice, she thought. The first one was when she was trying to cheer him up after the unkind women had given him the white feather. She was eighteen then, and very much confused. She didn't know what she felt then. And then, there was his deathbed wedding. She was married at twenty, but her feelings were _still _muddled then. Having grown up in a home without love, she never really knew that she was loved unconditionally. And her father-in-law treated her like she was his own flesh and blood.

"Mrs. Mason?" Jean murmured.

"Oh...you're here. I'm sorry. Mrs. Patmore, Miss Muirfield, you've caught me woolgathering." Mrs. Patmore said nothing, but nodded sadly. If Daisy wasn't mistaken, there was a sheen of tears in the older woman's grey-green eyes. She would miss her-she and Mrs. Hughes were like her mothers. It was amazing how a little girl of seven would be given up for dead by her family be "adopted" in a large household-including her employers, which included an earl and a countess, and their three daughters. The youngest died in childbirth, and one son-in-law died in a car accident. Of course, when she was old enough, she had to earn a living, but she knew she was cared for. And at that time, Daisy didn't think it was love. But she knew she had a family of some sorts, and she drew strength from it.

She went through the motions of orienting Jean. Jean was cook and nurse in a hospital somewhere in France. So the meals she'd cooked were nothing like the meals that Daisy served to the family then, even during the war. At least she knew the basics, she reflected. Things like chopping and boiling.

"I'll try to remember how to bake a pie, Mrs. Mason." Daisy looked at her replacement. Jean was tall, fair-haired, and solidly-built. In a strange way, Jean reminded her of Ivy-where looks were concerned. But she didn't simper, which endeared her to Daisy. In fact, Jean Muirfield was a sensible person.

"If you don't mind...how old were you when you volunteered?"

Jean Muirfield smiled. "1916. I was sixteen then. And..since I was tall and looked a bit older than most girls in my village in Glasgow, it was easy to tell the people in Red Cross that I was eighteen." Daisy listened to her intently. "What was it like-the hospitals? Or...you'd rather forget it happened?" The other girl shook her head. "You don't forget these things. Every day, in the wards, you'd see men-mangled, murdered, their legs or arms blown off. Why do you ask, Mrs. Mason?" Daisy sighed. Even after eight years, it still hurt to tell, although she had a reason to be proud. Her late husband died from injuries he sustained while saving the heir to the Earl of Grantham. William was a _hero._

"Just Daisy, please. Nothing...my husband died of injuries in the war. He...he was just brought home-here-to die. He was injured during the Battle of Amiens," Daisy answered. Bravely, she added, "sometimes, I wondered why there even was a war-so many homes, so many dreams have gone to waste." She closed her eyes, steadying herself, "Right. I'll introduce you to Christine, the kitchen maid. Mrs. Patmore sent her out on an errand. She should be here by now." Turning to Mrs. Patmore, she said, "Now, don't worry about Christine. I'll be here when she arrives."

Daisy nodded at Jean. "Let's go. I'll take you to Mrs. Hughes, and then the two of you can talk. I'll keep a watch for our kitchen maid, lest Mrs. Patmore be on the warpath. I was a kitchen maid once, so I can imagine how terrified Christine can be of her." she said to Mrs. Patmore with a mischievous grin. Mrs. Patmore chuckled. "I heard that, you naughty girl." Daisy only laughed. "I'll be quick," she promised.

She was able to keep her word, and still no Christine. Daisy was now worried, especially when it began to rain. She would have to gently remind the girl to walk a little faster. _Hm. As if you didn't dawdle in your life._

* * *

**_*Note: I had to use these lines from canon, as to help Daisy bring back that evening when she first saw William in uniform. Yes, the scene where Daisy went to hug William when he asked her to give her a kiss. Of course we knew Mrs. Patmore put a stop to that._**


	2. 1--Joy Comes In The Morning

_October 1905_

_Downton Abbey, Yorkshire_

Voices were raised, and heard outside Anna May Smith's bedroom. It was Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore talking.

Anna looked at the little girl sleeping in the other bed. Daisy Robinson was her name, or at least that was what she heard Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore say. Mrs. Hughes asked her to watch over the little girl. Little Daisy Robinson was deliriously ill-for three days now. Dr. Clarkson had been called every day and every night.

"Don't leave me 'ere. It's raining so 'ard, it's so cold. It's so cold." Anna could hear the little girl sob and whimper. Anna dipped the towel in ice cold water, squeezed out the excess, and wiped little Daisy's forehead. "You're safe inside a house now, sweetheart. There's a warm fire. And lots of warm, delicious food." Privately, Anna wondered if the little girl had anything to eat. Well, at least something nutritious. The child was so thin and delicate, she looked as if even a gentle gale would blow her away. _God in heaven, she's burning up._

Elsie Hughes then opened the door and entered. "How is the poor darling?" she asked in a hushed voice. Oddly, Anna felt like crying. In a choked voice, she said, "She's burning up, Mrs. Hughes. Dr. Clarkson needs to come back." Mrs. Hughes' was now tight-lipped. "I don't know if God would still find a place in heaven for that little girl's folks. They left her in the rain with a note saying that they could not afford to keep her anymore. She's the seventh child, and she's becoming a nuisance. I may not be a mother, but some people do not deserve to be parents at all." Mrs. Hughes sat down on Anna's bed, beside Anna. "The poor wee bairn," she said, her thick, Scottish burr was pronounced. Especially now that she was upset.

Daisy Robinson's story was a sad one, Mrs. Hughes said. Monday night, Daisy Robinson was left at the back door step of Downton Abbey. It was a cold, rainy night, and it was cruel to thin little girls of seven. The cold cut to the skin of even a plump person. They found a note saying that the girl's name was Daisy Robinson, seven years old, and that they could not afford to keep her. It even went as far as to say that she was no longer wanted. She was of no use, being only seven and could not earn a wage. That same evening, she passed out. The girl had contracted fever. She and Mr. Carson had no choice but to inform the Earl of Grantham about what had happened. Her Ladyship, the Earl's wife insisted that the little girl be given shelter, and the Earl was in concurrence with his wife. Dr. Clarkson was sent, post-haste.

If they weren't careful, Daisy would have pneumonia. And with her young and fragile state, she might die. Mrs. Hughes was tight-lipped. _Not by a long chalk,_ she told Dr. Clarkson. The child would live. Sadly, she thought, he might be right. She would be spared much of the trouble in the world if that would be the case. _No, I will fight. _Elsie thought. "Keep on wiping her forehead. It'll keep her fever down," she instructed Anna.

Outside Anna Smith's bedroom, Charles Carson, Beryl Patmore and Elsie Hughes discussed what to do next.

"Can we afford to keep her?"

"What about her parents? Other family?"

"I've made inquiries and nobody wanted her."

"That's insane! Nobody turns out their children out of their homes!"

"Well, this family did."

There was so much shouting, but finally, they resolved to keep Daisy. When she was old enough, she could be a kitchen maid. Mrs. Patmore proposed that she helped the scullery maids do their chores. "That would be child labour," protested Mrs. Hughes, and Mr. Carson agreed. It was settled that until Daisy was ten, she was to go to school-to learn enough how to read, write, and do simple sums.

"Are we going to the His Lordship?" asked Mrs. Patmore. Mrs. Hughes sighed and nodded. "We have to." Her voice broke. "I don't understand people who bring so many children out in the world and not take care of them. Look at Daisy, her folks left her on the doorstep of our kitchen. I've made some inquiries, and the Robinsons come from Ripon. Walter Robinson is a shiftless man, and his wife, even worse. They have eleven children, and the eldest is fifteen and is already working."

Mrs. Patmore was truly, deeply disturbed. "And they don't lift so much as a hand to work? What happened to _elbow grease?_"

"Apparently, they haven't got any."

"There's nothing we can do about it, Mrs. Hughes." Mr. Carson was "rewarded" with a swift rebuke. "Nothing, my maiden aunt. this is _child labour._ How totally _Dickensian_ that is. I've a good mind to tell the authorities." Charles Carson was about to ask if she intended to ask the King, or probably Queen Alexandra, but he suspected he'd get his head bitten off. Once Elsie Hughes had set off, trying to save the world, there was no stopping her. He rolled his eyes. He wondered what had happened to the poor little girl. She had passed out the night she had been taken in at Downton, and when Mrs. Patmore touched her forehead, she was burning up with fever. Then Dr. Clarkson had to be called, and of course, His Lordship. He was thankful that his employer was kind, and treated his servants like they were family.

Anna came out of the room. Charles nodded at her. Only nineteen, but the maid had her head properly screwed on her shoulders. She was the senior lower housemaid, but Charles could foresee a promotion coming anytime soon. Mrs. Hughes had trained her properly. Even with her virtues, the girl was a jovial, vivacious sort, and had a good word to say to anyone. This time, however, her face was drawn and pale, and very, very tired.

"I hope you won't mind me saying this, but won't you keep your voices down? If little Daisy Robinson has to get well, she needs proper rest, and the poor girl won't get it with the three of you shouting."

The three senior members of the household staff gaped at Anna. Mrs. Hughes was startled, but the girl had a point. At that moment, she knew who would take over her duties, on the day that she would retire.

If the situation wasn't so fraught with stress, she would have laughed, all of them looking like fish. She shook her head, shaking herself mentally. Anna closed her eyes. She must have had spoken out of turn. But Mr. Carson smiled at her. "Of course. You're right. I apologise. How is she?" Anna shook her head. "No better and no worse." _We need a miracle,_ thought Anna. _A bloody huge one._ She wasn't given to swearing, but if the child was meant to survive, then she _should._ They had administered the proper treatment to Daisy, as Dr. Clarkson recommended. _Oh Lord, please. If it's Your will that Daisy survives, help her._ It was so strange, that this girl had made her want to be a big sister to her. _If we get to keep her._

Dawn broke. The sky was pink, another indicator that it would be a rainy day today, thought Elsie Hughes. Mairead, the kitchen maid had knocked on her door early, upon her request. She wondered how the wee lass was faring today_. God works in wonderful and mysterious ways, _she thought. If the worst happens, at least the girl would be spared a lot of suffering later on. If she survives, God must have had some plan for her. Elsie walked to her door, intending to see if anyone was already up and about already. Opening it to the smallest crack possible, she saw that no one was about yet. _Good._ She took her wrap, and put it on her shoulders. She took her keys from her bedside table, and went out of her bedroom, locking the door.

Anna's bedroom wasn't that far. Elsie knocked on the door, gently, and called her. "Anna?" Within a few seconds Anna opened the door. The girl was tired, but her face carried glad tidings, Elsie thought. "The fever's turned. Little Daisy's rallying through." The two women held each other and wept tears of relief. For some reason they never knew, the little lass had touched both their hearts. Elsie thought that she would never be a mother. But she was wrong. The servants placed under her care would be like her children. Wasn't Anna the living, breathing testimony? "You rest," she told Anna. "I'll get Miss O' Brien and Lily to cover for you."


	3. 2--Dawn

**Sorry it has taken too long to update! In order to write this chapter, I had to imagine how this chapter would flow since after this, the succeeding chapters would be based on canon, and for that purpose, I had to re-watch Season/Series One. Also, you might notice that some parts of the chapter are similar to that from William's story (In Between). This is partly due to continuity and consistency purposes. Enjoy reading!**

* * *

_January 1912_

_Downton Abbey, Yorkshire_

Daisy always loved those moments she had to herself whenever she woke earlier than she was supposed to. Today, however, she had not the luxury of time, because she woke up at the time she was due to wake. So after a quick wash, she readied herself to the new day. Since it was winter, it was still dark at six o'clock in the morning. So after getting herself ready, she made up her bed in record time; it was a skill one had to learn if you work directly under Mrs. Patmore. Better be nimble, better be quick.

"Six o' clock!" She would call the maids awake.

"All right, Daisy," Lily called back. Lily shared the room with Mairead, so that was one less thing to worry about; Gertie and Milly, plus Anna and Gwen. Izzie would be back early from her day off, and then she would also wake Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Hughes. Oh, and Miss O' Brien. But Daisy managed to wake the female servants in ten minutes, and then she would dash downstairs to get the coal scuttle and matches.

Daisy looked at the calendar near Mrs. Patmore's table that she called her desk. January 18. Her birthday. But with all the things she had to do today, Daisy reflected that she wouldn't have time for birthdays. Her _folks_ didn't give her the time of day on her _birthday_, so why would she have the luxury to do that for herself? But here, it was different. People here were nice to her; the Countess of Grantham was kind enough to give her Lady Sybil's old clothes since she was near the young Lady's age, even if she was years younger. At least, that was what she experienced in her previous birthdays.

There was a wax doll that belonged to Lady Sybil. Daisy was given that by Lady Sybil herself, when she was recovering from her illness. Of all the daughters that the Earl and Countess of Grantham had, Lady Sybil was the nicest. Her older sisters were nice, but that was all. Lady Sybil always made time to talk to the servants and would come in to see Mrs. Hughes in her sitting room from time to time-which, Daisy reflected was a bit frequent. Lady Mary was Mr. Carson's favourite. And Lady Edith rarely went downstairs, if at all. Daisy got the stove ready while she mused about this.

There. His Lordship and Her Ladyship's bedroom already had a fire built. She had just finished Lady Sybil's fire. The kitchen was next, and then the library. And the drawing room. _Just a little more push, Daisy. Just a little more. _

In the drawing room, Anna and Gwen were busy trying to avoid her. That was odd, Daisy thought. She shrugged. Likely they had something else in mind. She finished making the fire there.

_And finally, I am done._

Mrs. Patmore railed at her. As usual. This time, it was about the tea. They were short of tea, and why didn't Daisy tell her? And the sugar. Did _she eat the sugar in her spare time?_ No, _Mrs. Patmore_, she said. _Sorry about the tea_, Mrs. Patmore. She didn't really mind Mrs. Patmore's shrieks of dismay. Kept her on her toes. Thomas grumbled as usual, but that was the way he was made. Miss O' Brien was her usual, surly, taciturn self. Daisy was too busy to notice them, anyway. Mrs. Hughes made the odd request of asking her to help Lily and Izzie beat the carpets, which she complied. The task was odder still, since the huge housecleaning was done in the spring, and that included beating the carpets. But the carpet beating did get done, and then Mrs. Patmore asked her to go to the village and buy the tea and sugar. "That's right. Two pounds of tea, and two pounds of sugar. Off you go, flutterbudget," and Mrs. Patmore shooed her out of the kitchen.

Beryl Patmore _felt_ Mrs. Hughes' presence. Despite their differences, she and Elsie Hughes were the best of friends. Both ladies waited for the young girl to be out of earshot. "All set, I daresay?" smiled Elsie. Beryl nodded. "I've got cake up in the pantry for her. It's chocolate. An' I'll be sending up Gwen to the village to buy candy letters. How on earth can I manage to send the two up there without seeing each other? Thank heavens, Daisy, with all her oddness, isn't one to dither." Mrs. Hughes smiled. "I do have an idea. Her Ladyship is planning to give some of Lady Sybil's old clothes to Daisy and Gwen. At least, that was what she discussed with me yesterday. Perhaps it will be the best time to keep her out of the way while everyone's preparing."

"That's a good idea." Beryl murmured. Mrs. Hughes walked up to the pie-and-cake cupboard to inspect the cake. "Oh it looks good, Mrs. Patmore. I imagine it will even prettier with the frosting and the candy letters. Have you told Gwen to buy candles as well?" Her friend nodded. "And that they're supposed to be pink. Goes well with the colour of her hair. She's filled out nicely, hasn't she?"

Elsie Hughes smiled. "Yes, she does. She's actually quite pretty. Daisy's actually come a long way from that thin, scared child that she was. But you'd tell me that fine feathers make fine birds." Beryl disagreed. "She looks nicely turned out when she's not in her work clothes. Sometimes I wonder, if her folks ever thought of her at all. But I don't suppose they do, seeing as they haven't come to take her back. Daisy may not be the sharpest knife, but she's a nice child."

* * *

Lady Mary Josephine Crawley looked at her reflection for another time. At twenty-one years old, she was still unmarried, something the people in London talked about. Here and there would be whispers of how _fastidious _and _capricious_ she was. And cold. Sometimes, men would look at her in fear, and whenever one of their own would like to pay court to the beauteous Crawley daughter, the hapless man would be the recipient of jokes like, "Good luck to you, dear boy. I really wouldn't fancy myself marrying a cold fish." They thought she didn't know. But of course, Mary would always know.

What people didn't know was that she could be a good person _sometimes_. And that was only to people she was comfortable letting her guard down. Probably the servants, since Papa was determined to treat them like family, and in some funny way, _they_ were. Didn't they take in a little girl-well, at least they allowed Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore to take her in-Mrs. Patmore it was said, had practically raised her-what was her name-Dorothy? Oh, no. Daisy. Oh, good heavens. She was the kitchen maid who would have her birthday today. How could she have forgotten? She had heard it a week or so from either Gwen and Anna and the two girls seem to share a secret. With a little more encouragement, she had finally managed to let them include her in it. And she had given one of her old coats when she was sixteen.

The coat was a lovely dark red, with buttons covered in red velvet. Didn't Daisy have dark hair? Brown, perhaps? At least that was what she remembers seeing when the family came to church with the servants. Red would go with brown, Mary thought.

_"I think you'll have to let it up, Anna. I'm tall and Daisy isn't. And do tell her to have a lovely birthday."_

_ "I'm sure she will, my lady, especially when she sees this," Anna surveyed the coat. "You'll only be fourteen once," she said gravely._

_ "Indeed," agreed Mary._

She would ask Anna about the coat. Since Anna had a good hand for sewing and fine stitching, the coat would be finished in time.

"Anna," smiled Mary. "How is the birthday present?"

"All done, my lady. And I've put in some tucks, and it looks ever so nice."

"Oh, that's good. Show me later, won't you? She's turning fourteen today, isn't Daisy?"

"Yes, my lady. Now, what would you like to wear today?"

"Oh, that rose crepe-de-chine. Mama and Papa are expecting company for luncheon. Probably those odious Marburys..."

* * *

Lady Edith Violet Crawley had a hard time trying to decide which frock to wear today. Was it the cream muslin or the plum coloured organza? Finally, after a lengthy deliberation with Anna, she decided on the cream muslin. "I didn't know what I was thinking when I chose that colour," Edith was a bit rueful. "And I would rather not run the risk of Mary talk about frumpy I look. _Like a middle-aged poor relation,"_ Anna bit her tongue and said nothing. Anna laced Lady Edith into the cream muslin which went well with her figure and colouring. Because the dress was a dream in itself, Edith was entranced with the lace that adorned the neckline and the skirt, enough to distract her from her fretful mood.

"What day is it today? Is it the eighteenth? It's the kitchen maid's birthday, isn't it?" asked Edith. Again, Anna said nothing. _The girl has a name, _she thought. _It's Daisy, by the way._

"Yes, my lady. It is." Anna was surprised when the young lady let out an exclamation. "Oh!" Edith said. "Wait, I do have something. I overheard Mama and Mrs. Hughes talking about the kitchen maid's birthday. It's a book-she might be able to read it when she's not...she's not too busy mending fires."

_It's Daisy, my lady. Again._ Anna thought. She was protective of Daisy. For her, "that kitchen maid" was like a sister. A little sister. She had also found that in Gwen. Anna looked out for these two girls. Gwen had dreams of bettering herself, and she was working toward its fulfilment. And Daisy. She's so young and innocent, it was a bit surprising that she had kept her youth and innocence, in spite of her real family's neglect. Others would have aged ahead and would have become hardened. And she's a sweet little thing too. _I guess Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Hughes raised her well._ Far better than her real folks would have. Anna did not notice Lady Edith disappear for a while, taking out a package wrapped in brown paper tied with red-and-white twine. "It's a story called _Little Women,_" she said, a bit _too_ eagerly. For Lady Edith, that is. "Mama's read it when she was a young girl in New York, and I've read it a few fair times too. I've yet to finish it again...so it comes highly recommended. Do wish...Daisy a happy birthday for me, Anna."

"Very well, my lady," and then Anna proceeded to dress the young lady's hair.

* * *

Lady Sybil was enthusiastic about the preparations that were being made for Daisy. "I'm sorry that apart from the hat that I passed on to Mrs. Hughes to give to Daisy, this is all I can give her." She handed Anna a prettily wrapped packet. It was a box of sweets and some bolts of wide ribbon for the hat. "But next year, I'll be more careful of my allowance. I don't know why or how I've spent it without taking every penny into account. I usually do. Has she seen the clothes that I asked Mama to give her?" Anna nodded. "She's ever so delighted, my lady. She's kept on asking Mrs. Hughes to thank you over and over."

"Oh, I'm so glad. I know they're not new and they're pretty much castoffs, but that poor little girl needs some care. What need do we have of missionary barrels when people even under this roof can make good use of these clothes? It's not that she does not deserve anything new, though-I do hope she'd get something new-a coat or a dress."

Anna nodded in agreement. But now, it was time for Lady Sybil to get dressed. "And now, my lady, what do you say about that white and red striped dress that you just got from Ripon?" Lady Sybil smiled, but it faded as she was hesitant. "Oh I do think _that _frock is just perfect. But is it suitable for a luncheon? You know Granny. She'll always have something to say about these things." Anna smiled. "Fear not, my lady. It is suitable. And you'll look lovely. Come now, and we better get started." Anna then laced the young lady as Lady Sybil asked, "How old is she? Thirteen? Fourteen? Time does go by so fast. One day, she was recovering from pneumonia when she first came here, and now, she's fourteen. I do hope she would have a lovely birthday."

Anna smiled. "Well, she will be surprised this afternoon, my lady. Mind, it was hard to keep everything a secret. That poor lamb must have been wondering why the staff has been snubbing her. She's a very nice child, and it doesn't take so much to make her smile."

"Do you think she is happy here?"

"I do think she is, but only she can answer that question. But she does get along well with others. O' Brien thinks that she is a bit simple-minded, but I do think that there is more to the little girl than everyone gives her credit for. She's young and impressionable, and rather given to romantic thoughts."

Lady Sybil smothered a smile. "Oh, as do young girls of her age." Maid and lady giggled.

* * *

"Oh, it is time. Do let her in," exclaimed Mrs. Hughes. And Mr. Carson ushered in a surprised but delighted Daisy. "Oh, oh...thank you. I never thought..." Mrs. Hughes squeezed the young girl's hand. "Then you thought wrong, my dear. Now, come and sit," she said.

Daisy noticed that in front of each servant's place was a small package. And then, there was cake, with a pink candle and candy letters that spelled out HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAISY. If there was some other food, she didn't notice it. All at once, her eyes rimmed with tears, and all she could say was _thank you._ Well, she was grateful anyhow. Mrs. Patmore went a week ago to Ripon and bought her a new apron. Mrs. Hughes and Anna between them presented her with handkerchiefs. Some plain, some made of tiny cotton lawn and sprigged with tiny flowers, and some were embroidered.

Mr. Carson bought the latest issue of Photoplay, even though he privately thought that such things were fripperies and a waste of time and money. Mr. Watson, His Lordship's valet gave her a small bag made out of black velveteen. Miss O' Brien and Thomas, in a rare spurt of kindness, clubbed together and bought Daisy a new box of hairpins. Gwen gave her hair ribbons, with an apology, " For Sunday, and I'm ever so sorry that it's all I could manage for now." Lily had given Daisy a writing set, and for now, Daisy didn't know who she would write to. She decided to thank Lily when she returned from her day off. The under-kitchen maids, Gertie and Milly also clubbed together to give her lemon-scented sachets. "To put in your drawers, and give out that fresh, clean smell every day."

Daisy saw Mr. Carson give Mrs. Hughes some sort of signal. And as if on cue, Mr. Carson disappeared for a while, and reappeared with some packages, and a hat, which Daisy recognised to be Lady Sybil's boater hat. He put them in front of her, and said, in a gentle, fatherly voice that he rarely used, "Open these, Daisy." And so, she did. A dark red coat came from Lady Mary—she had asked Anna to let some stitches up to make the coat and its sleeves a little shorter—Lady Mary was tall and Daisy wasn't. A book called Little Women came from Lady Edith. Mr. Carson said that Lady Grantham read that book as a young girl back in New York, and so, when Edith went to visit her Aunt, the Lady Rosamund Painswick in London, she went to book shop and bought it—the book was said to be highly recommended. Daisy was right in guessing that the hat came from Lady Sybil, with a packet of wide ribbons and a letter for her from Lady Sybil herself. Daisy saved it to read for later. The very last, and a relatively large package was a dress from Lord and Lady Grantham. Mr. Carson said, "They intended to give it to you on Christmas, but they decided to give it on your birthday instead. Your new uniform."

"Please thank them for me, Mr. Carson...I...I could have done it myself, but..." Mr. Carson understood. Then Daisy and the rest of the servants tucked in several amounts of cake, sandwiches, scones and meat pies. They were halfway through the festivities when a knock was heard at the back door. Jerry (actually Gerald, Mr. Carson preferred to keep things formal) went to open it, and walked as briskly as he could so he could go to the door without having to run.

* * *

Jerry Castle, one of the hall boys, opened the door to a tall young man. Probably a potential new footman, he thought. He couldn't be older than seventeen, he surmised. And he was good-looking, probably the girls would like to see a boy like him. Hair like ripe wheat and eyes as blue as the sea. His eyes looked so _liquid,_ Jerry thought he could drown in it.

"What do yer say yer name is?"

"Mason. William Mason. I received a letter from Mr-Mr. Carson. It's about the position of footman-I've applied for it."

"Very well then. Mind if yer stay over there for a while? I've got ter tell Mr. Carson and we were having a party. Our kitchen maid's turned fourteen ter-day."

"Oh."

"Or maybe yer can step in a little bit inside. It's cold outside and it's no good startin' yer new job if yer to be ill." William Mason did as he was told. "Stay there. I've got to tell Mr. Carson."

"All right," said the visitor.

"It's a William Mason, Mr. Carson, said he's here to apply for footman," he reported. "Ah," said Mr. Carson. "Send the lad in." Jerry trotted back to the door, asking the visitor to come in. "Mr. Carson says yer to come inside. Come quickly, looks like it's gunna snow again today. Follow me," he instructed, and they walked to the servant's hall. "William Mason, Mr. Carson,"

"Ah yes," said Mr. Carson. "Good afternoon to you, William. Today is a rather busy day, as it's our kitchen maid's birthday, so we put up a small party for her. Now, come with me to the pantry. Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Patmore, please allow me to request Gertie to put some meat pies in a saucer and some tea for our young guest here. Now, come in to my pantry."

"Good afternoon," William Mason greeted everyone in the hall, doffing his cap. He just got it for Christmas, and a new waistcoat—Christmas presents from his mother. He also wore the waistcoat today. His eyes fell on the birthday girl—Daisy. The girl had a pink and milk-white complexion—a milkmaid's complexion, he mused. She had dark brown hair and grey-blue eyes. Large, and long-lashed, he noted. Why he was taking note of her appearance, he didn't know. All he knew was that she had this fragile, delicate look about her, that made him want to have a chance to look after her. _Now, where did that come from? She looks like an angel. An angel without wings but wearing a blue-checked dress._

Daisy, like the rest of the servants looked at him. He had a pleasant face, and he looked friendly too. The young visitor then disappeared with Mr. Carson. Gertie put in two meat pies and a cup of tea, as Mr. Carson requested. Daisy, sensing that the party had come to an end, thanked everybody. She then started to clear the things and pushing back the chairs. The other servants lingered for a while, and wished Daisy a happy birthday. Not long after, Mr. Carson reappeared, with William Mason in his wake.

"May I have your attention, please? This is William Mason, who will be second footman. William, this is Mrs. Hughes," the kind woman nodded, "and, Anna, Gwen, Jenny, and Lottie. Lily, the other maid is on her day off. Mrs. Patmore is our cook," continued Mr. Carson as he pointed to a red-haired rubicund, plump woman. "Gertie and Milly are the under-kitchen maids, and Daisy—our birthday girl—is our scullery maid. Mr. Watson is his lordship's valet, Miss O' Brien is her ladyship's maid. Tomorrow you can meet the others. Up we go now."

Daisy's eyes followed the young footman-to-be. She noticed that the other servants looked at him askance. The newcomer surely would need a friend.


	4. 3--A Spring In Her Step

_March 1912_

"Daisy? Have the fairies taken your soul again? Did you hear what I said? DAISY!"

"Yes, Mrs. Patmore?"

"I was asking for the eggs. But it seems that you were in another world that I am convinced you've been kidnapped again by those fairies. Now give me the eggs and go get the flour!"

"Yes, Mrs. Patmore!"

Beryl Patmore looked at Daisy Robinson with narrowed eyes. The girl was probably mooning about that viper footman again. What does that girl see in Thomas Barrow, really? The man was good looking, she had to give him credit. But kindness was not one of his talents. And if she, Beryl Patmore was correct, he was bullying the younger footman. Just because he was new. Thomas never seemed to be pleased about anything, she thought. Before the first footman Andrew Leichfield left to get married and run a greengrocer's store, Thomas was second footman, and he did everything to better himself, and was short of trying to get Andrew sacked. But he was no match against the former first footman, she thought.

Just because he smiled at Daisy, the girl's got no call thinking he fancies her. Because all the servants knew that Thomas didn't fancy girls. Nor women, nor ladies neither. Beryl almost felt sorry for the girl, she stood no chance at all. _Well, she shouldn't be, if there's justice in the world._

"Are you ill, Daisy?" William was concerned. Having taken what she needed from Mrs. Hughes, Daisy came back bearing the bag of flour for Mrs. Patmore. She shook her head at William. "No, I'm not. I've got something on me mind," she said.

"You do? Now, now, that's a surprise! Open the cupboard and get that flour jar. Time for you to open it, too! And William, probably you'd have something that Mr. Carson wants to do or if you haven't, you could make yourself useful by helping Daisy!" William was startled, but he complied, anyway. "Yes, Mrs. Patmore," he stuttered. He opened the bag of flour and Daisy, armed with a small scoop, took the bag of flour from William with a smile of thanks. "Perhaps it'll be faster if you pour the flour into the jar. And Mrs. Patmore can use what's left inside the bag." Mrs. Patmore surveyed the bag of flour. The flour jar wasn't very big, and there will be plenty enough left. "That's right," she mused. "Thank you, William."

"It's all right, Mrs. Patmore," he smiled shyly.

William was waiting for the kettle to give its whistling shriek, letting people know that the water was ready. He turned to both Mrs. Patmore and Daisy. "I'll be back. It might take a little longer to hear the kettle whistle, I'll just go get the silver teapot." And off he went. Mrs. Patmore, her mood already improved by the boy's kindness turned to Daisy. "Look at that boy. Such a nice boy, isn't he?" Daisy was already preparing ingredients for the apple tart, so she did not look up when she said, "Yes Mrs. Patmore, William is." Returning to her task, she made a mental list of the ingredients she already had and might have missed. "Apples, flour, salt, butter, eggs, sugar an' cinnamon," she recited to herself. Daisy realised that she was missing the lemons.

"I've got to go get some lemons," Daisy said.

"What for?" Mrs. Patmore and William asked in unison. He held a silver teapot like it was made out of cut glass. "Kettle didn't whistle yet, William. Eh, what are you going to use the lemons for, Daisy?" she wanted to know. Daisy didn't answer her question until she went back to the kitchen with two lemons. "When you sent me to the store to buy sugar and tea, I heard two ladies talking about pies and tarts and such. One of those ladies said that while putting the apple cores to boil, she mixed in some lemon juice to make it taste better. 'Course it would depend how much apples we were going to use for the tart."

"I've never done it before, and it's not likely I'll be doin' that anytime." Mrs. Patmore was rather taken aback. But Daisy, for some strange reason, wanted to try it."Please Mrs. Patmore, let me try." William looked at both Daisy and Mrs. Patmore. "My mother never did it either, but it won't do much harm to try," he said. The cook looked at the young footman and her kitchen maid. "All right then. But if this fails I won't let you try your hand at another dish for the meanwhile, girl. I'll leave the apple tart to you, then." Daisy smiled at both Mrs. Patmore and William. "Thank you," she said. So Mrs. Patmore left Daisy on her own devices where the apple tarts were concerned. Finally, the kettle whistled, and William bustled about, pouring some water into the teapot. "If this goes well, I'll save you an extra slice," whispered Daisy. William's face was aglow with delight. "Will you, Daisy?" he whispered back. Daisy nodded.

Mrs. Patmore called William's attention. "Unless you want your water turned into ice, you better get moving, my boy. Off with you."

In the servant's hall, Daisy was waiting with trepidation. Mrs. Patmore had been so busy that she had not time to taste the tarts before having them brought out to the servants' hall. But Daisy did and she thought she did well. William sensed her worry. "I'm sure they'll be just fine," he reassured her.

Daisy swallowed a lump that suddenly formed in her throat while Mrs. Hughes took a bite of the tart that she had on her plate. Mrs. Hughes closed her eyes, and savoured the tart. "My, my, this is good. Just the right amount of tartness and sweetness. What a treat, Mrs. Patmore." The cook turned to Daisy. "No, it's not me," she said, a surprised smile nudging out of her lips. "It's actually Daisy," she said. The servants chimed in their agreement, and Daisy was showered with praise, and in turn, she thanked them. Even Mr. Carson took a second helping, and so did Miss O' Brien and Thomas. Daisy looked at the untouched tart.

"William," she whispered, and beckoned to him. "Your extra slice." William beamed. "Thank you," he said. His friend smiled. "No, thank you. It was your idea to ask Mrs. Patmore to allow me."

"I'm glad it turned out well," he whispered.

"So did I," she whispered back and smiled.

Upstairs, Lord Grantham took a bite of the apple tart. "This is delicious, Mr. Carson. It just melted in my mouth. Please tell Mrs. Patmore that the apple tart beyond anything I've tasted."

The family, for once, agreed to eat something simple for dinner, as they had eaten a rather heavy tea while visiting Lady Spenlow. So it was just roasted chicken with potatoes in rosemary. For pudding, there was apple tart with cream. Lady Grantham agreed. "Oh yes, please tell Mrs. Patmore. I haven't tasted an apple tart good as _this _ever since I got married." The young ladies were delighted, Lady Sybil in particular, thought Charles Carson. The youngest daughter of his lordship always had a sweet tooth.

"Well my lord, it's Daisy who made the tart." The family was surprised-pleasantly surprised.

"Daisy-the kitchen maid?" asked Lady Mary. William couldn't contain it any longer, and blurted, "Yes, my lady, exactly," Charles Carson, it seemed, didn't mind William saying it. After all, the lass did a good job of making the tart, and the staff would have finished off the third one (the one meant for the family), but of course-they didn't. The family's reaction was priceless, he thought. Lady Sybil was finishing her second helping, and Lady Edith was starting her second. Lady Mary, on the other hand decided that she might as well abandon caution this once, and took a second helping.

"She's promising, I can say that much," said the eldest Crawley daughter. "Mrs. Patmore should be watching her position with her beady eye, or else, Daisy will be wearing her cook's apron in ten years," she teased. Charles allowed himself a small smile, and he himself was surprised that he said as much. "Mrs. Patmore is doing a good job training her. Daisy of course, should keep up with the times."

"Of course, she does," agreed Lord Grantham. "Please pass on our compliments to Daisy," beamed the Countess. "She is of small stature, I admit, but my, is she growing fast. I'm glad that she's doing well here." Charles Carson nodded, looked briefly at William, and looked straight into the distance again. He had to admit, Daisy wasn't the sharpest of minds on occasion, but she does put in good work. As well, she was good-natured and humble, if a bit absent-minded and dreamy at times. Charles was glad that William found friends in Daisy and Gwen-they were better company than Thomas Barrow, who loved to grumble and make trouble.

Charles Carson also suspected something. William Mason was also sweet on the kitchen maid. The lad was green enough not to know how to hide his emotions. But he was making steady progress, and improved as time went by, even if he was occasionally clumsy. Thank heaven his clumsiness hadn't been extended to the china yet. Also, Charles noticed that sometimes the boy looked at the girl as if the sun rose in her eyes.

Sadly, the girl raised moon-eyes at Thomas Barrow. _Heavens, what a predicament_.

"They did? They really did?" Daisy Robinson's eyes were round as the saucers in the kitchen cupboard. William nodded. "And all the ladies took second helpings. Lady Sybil would have taken a third one, but her ladyship gave her a look and so she had to stop. But her ladyship said it was the best apple tart she'd tasted since she got married!"

All the servants now gathered at the servants' hall, Daisy was reading Lady Edith's birthday gift to her-a book. William on the other hand, was sewing a loose button on his shirt. It was his half-day tomorrow and he wanted to wear that shirt when he came to see his folks. But not before he told Daisy that the family upstairs thought that the pudding was delicious, and Lady Sybil attempted to get a third one, if it weren't for the quelling look of her ladyship. "But what matters is that they thought you're doing well."

"That's really nice to know," murmured Daisy. "'Course it is," agreed William. "What are you reading?" Daisy put the book down. "It's a birthday gift from Lady Edith. It's called _Little Women,_ and she wrote in a note that Lady Grantham read that book when she was a young girl in America."

"It's a very nice book," said Anna, with a smile. She was re-trimming Lady Edith's plum-coloured hat. Sitting beside Anna was Gwen, who, for tonight was unusually silent, and rather busy. Daisy guessed that she was writing a letter so she said nothing. Thomas and O' Brien were deep in conversation about something. Mrs. Hughes was also writing a letter, and Mr. Carson was sitting comfortably in the rocking chair near the stove. Silence came over the hall, which was broken by Mrs. Hughes by putting down her fountain pen on a small piece of flannel. She smiled at William. "When you're done with your shirt, will you play us a tune, William? You play well." William looked up. "Certainly, Mrs. Hughes. A few more stitches to lock the button into place, and it will be done," he promised. Mrs. Hughes smiled at him again. "Thank you," she said. A few minutes later, William put down his shirt and went to the piano and opened it. In a while, he was playing the first notes of _Danny Boy. _ Everyone was surprised to see Miss O' Brien's eyes mist a little. "What's wrong about tearing up about a song?" she huffed. Everyone hid amused smiles, for the often tacit woman was rarely seen wearing her heart on her sleeve.

When William was done with _Danny Boy_, Anna asked William to play _Let Me Call You Sweetheart._ Thomas, in a rare spurt of humour, teased Anna, "Now, who would you be calling sweetheart? You've not been walking out with anyone in _years_." Anna took advantage of the moment. "Certainly not. Haven't been for some time. It's just that some people are longing for an opportunity to do that," she said with a grin. "I don't know what you're talking about," said Thomas. "It's for me to know and for you to wonder," Anna playfully parried that comeback with a grin. Daisy, who had long stopped reading, listened to William play the song Anna had requested, her mouth forming O's for the duration of the song. Mrs. Hughes was smiling throughout the song, like a proud mother listening to her son play. Mr. Carson closed his eyes, and the others could not make out whether he was pretending not to hear anything or was savouring the song, like others did.

"Look at William's ears, Anna. They're a bit red," observed Gwen. Anna exchanged a knowing grin with the other girl. Then she turned to Daisy. "Daisy, what can you say? Such a lovely song, played well."

"Y-yes...I s'pose so," a startled Daisy replied. Anna grinned again. "There's no suppose about it." To the other girls' dismay, the younger girl's gaze was now directed at Thomas. "Heavens above," groaned Gwen.

"Take comfort that she is young and she'll get sorted someday," said Anna, as she returned her attention to the smart new hat. "If I'm not here anymore, let me know," Gwen retorted dryly. "What do you mean?" asked Anna. "I'll tell you when the story has a proper ending," Gwen promised. Seeing that the other feather was not in line with the others, Anna adjusted that one. "Well, it better be," she muttered darkly. Life is strange, she thought. _Here's one person fancying another, and almost everybody knows it except her. _


End file.
